


I Am What I Am

by bratfarrar



Series: As Kingfishers Catch Fire [16]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratfarrar/pseuds/bratfarrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For the most part, Michael doesn't have a whole lot of interaction with people, nothing much to occupy his time, although Sheppard teaches him various forms of poker in the evening and Teyla spars with him in the afternoon sun.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am What I Am

They have to put together a cover story, since telling everyone that Michael’s an ex-wraith would be a good way to get him lynched. And Michael finds that it helps a little, having a background, even if it’s a fake one. Keeps the voice in his head quiet during the long empty nights.

If anyone asks, Michael is like Ronon—a victim of the wraith, someone who’s survived through determination and being just that bit faster and stronger than the average person. (He discovers that fact about himself while sparring with Teyla). The main thing is to not give anyone reason to ask, but he’s never (he thinks) been very talkative, so that’s not a problem.

He gets a guard for the first couple of weeks: Goodman, who’s got skin the color of afternoon shadows and a voice that’s broken-in and comfortable sounding. Really, though, Goodman’s as much guide as guard, through all the foibles of Atlantis and its occupants. For the most part, Michael doesn’t have a whole lot of interaction with people, nothing much to occupy his time, although Sheppard teaches him various forms of poker in the evening and Teyla spars with him in the afternoon sun.

Dr. McKay tries to be friendly, and that’s how they discover that Michael can still read Wraith and is still familiar with the technology. Suddenly he has a job, if he wants one—which he does. Having something to do, some purpose, also helps keep him in his skin. It’s good to have something to do when he can’t sleep, and somewhere to go during the day. Goodman’s eventually removed from guard duty, although they remain friendly. Everything seems to be going well.

And then someone attacks Michael. Surprisingly, though, it’s not Ronon. Ronon actually steps in to help break up the fight. Before he does, though, Michael accidentally hurts the guy pretty badly, and so is confined to quarters. He spends the evening convincing himself that he’s going to be dumped somewhere—or shot, as a security risk. Not that the Lanteans seem to make a habit of such actions, but he’s just an experiment, and a more or less failed one, to boot.

Teyla stops by to visit him, after an hour or two, and tries to convince him otherwise, but he can’t quite bring himself to believe her. It is of some comfort to know he has at least one friend, though.

Late that evening, after dark, Sheppard comes by, and asks him what happened. Michael says he was basically jumped without warning, which he was, and Sheppard looks very tired, but says that’s what he thought. That the other guy’s being shipped back to earth with the Daedelus, because he cracked and attacked an unarmed civilian with no provocation.

Says he’ll understand if Michael wants to leave, either to the Athosians or elsewhere, and they’ll give him whatever supplies he needs.

Michael stares at him, horrified, because that’s the last thing he wants. He’s just finding his place here, finding himself. He knows he likes bananas and pancakes and ketchup, and it’s fun working in the labs. And Goodman gave him music to listen to, and he’s not got through it all yet.

Besides, he still has yet to beat Sheppard at Egyptian Rat Screw.

So he stays, and plays cards with Sheppard while everyone else is asleep, and by the time the next batch of personnel comes in, everyone’s used to him.

Atlantis is home, and he is himself, firmly in his own skin.

**Author's Note:**

> More summary than fic, I'm afraid, but it's _something_ at least.


End file.
